


oral tradition

by owlsareheadturners



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Crack, Dirty Talk, F!Robin/Lucina - Freeform, F/F, chrom is such a prude it's actually hilarious, possible ooc, possibly non-canon-compliant, someone please save from chrom from himself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 05:21:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18543106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlsareheadturners/pseuds/owlsareheadturners
Summary: As he approaches the equipment store he hears two hushed voices drift out from the tent flap, which has been uncharacteristically left ajar. Chrom frowns, and leans in to listen.“Gods, Robin, I can’t wait anymore…”“Well, we’d better just get over with it then—this was all your idea, wasn’t it?”In which Chrom suffers from a bad case of can't-take-dirty-talk-itis.





	oral tradition

**Author's Note:**

> A request from a friend. ~~I'm not even in this fandom.~~ I had to do a lot of research for this one because I'm unfamiliar with the canon, but despite my efforts, I may have made an error somewhere. Please do let me know if there are any inconsistencies with canon and I will try to sort them out to the best of my ability.

Chrom takes a deep breath, turning on his heel, and looses a roaring battle cry. The Falchion slices satisfyingly through rotten flesh and bone with one mighty swing, and the last of the Risen goes from being undead to being actually dead this time, its head wobbling off along the ground for a short while before coming to a complete stop, still staring at its killer—er, _re-_ killer—with that signature deathly expression on its face.

Even though he’s in the middle of a deserted graveyard, Chrom glances around to see that there’s no-one watching. There isn’t, so he swings his sword through the air and poses in self-congratulation.

He’s done it. He’s single-handedly repelled the zombie invasion. He’s the incredible Captain of the Shepherds of Ylisse! The stars are aligned, the heavens have beamed down on him, and everything is going his way. Chrom loves being alive.

He’s still in high spirits as he rides back towards where the Shepherds have set up camp, his saddlebags jingling with gold. His current horse isn’t too happy about the extra weight; she snorts and tosses her head every few minutes, signalling her displeasure.

“We’re running a practical _army_ out here, Buttercup,” Chrom chastises gently, patting the horse’s flank. “We have to raise funds impromptu sometimes, you know.” As if to signal her displeasure, Buttercup slows from a trot to an obstinate plod.

“Oh, come _on._ ” Chrom grumbles.

Normally Chrom would have taken Robin with him, but he’d decided to go all alone this time. For one, why not let Robin take a well-deserved break from all that thinking? After all, zombies were pretty much the only thing you could fight in significant numbers without much strategy, since even Chrom would have more brains than all of them combined. Leave Robin to do “girl stuff” with Lucina—dressing up or painting their faces with rouge or whatever it was young ladies entertained themselves with these days. Robin certainly seemed like she needed the practice. And secondly, maaaayyybe he just wanted to prove his prowess even when he didn’t have the other Shepherds to back him up. Really, name another person who could single-handedly wipe out an invading horde of Risen all by themselves! Of course, the first reason is definitely the more important one. Chrom’s a really considerate person, after all.

Good ole’ Buttercup finally makes it back to the field where the Shepherds are pitched, their tents clustered like so many grazing sheep against the crisp green of the expansive, rolling field. Chrom can’t help but break into a smile as he surveys his people—his family—from afar. How far they’ve come—from a resource-starved, desperate, war-pressed, ragtag force to the slightly less ragtag, slightly less desperate, slightly less resource-starved force that they are today. At least they’re not war-pressed any longer.

Someone on the campsite is cooking something, and the thick, delicious smell of it drifts across the grass, wafting into Chrom’s nose. The leisurely laughter and chatter of his soldiers drifts into his ears, the sun is shining, and the sky is a beautiful blue. Chrom _loves_ being alive.

As he approaches the equipment store he hears two hushed voices drift out from the tent flap, which has been uncharacteristically left ajar. Chrom frowns, and leans in to listen.

“Gods, Robin, I can’t wait anymore…”

“Well, we’d better just get over with it then—this was all your idea, wasn’t it?”

“I… am aware. I apologise, Robin. We shall just have to go through with it before he discovers us.”

“Yeah… I can imagine he’ll go _ballistic_ if he finds out about what we’re doing.” There’s the sound of crates being shifted around inside, and then Robin’s voice.

“Shh, Lucina… do you want people to hear? Now come on, help me take this thing off.”

And then, the unmistakable rustle of fabric.

Chrom’s cheeks flare with heat, and he feels like his feet are being rooted to the spot.

“What shall we do next?” Lucina’s voice drifts back to him, and Chrom cranes his head against the tent flap for all his limited flexibility is worth, his heart racing faster than his horse ever could. He hears Robin say, “Okay, I know you have limited experience, so just do what I tell you to.”

“I shall.”

“First, you use your fingers—just slide two of them here like this and curl them around, like so—”

Lucina grunts. “Nnh—this is actually more difficult than I imagined, Robin…”

“What did I tell you? You’re just not used to it. Now, make sure they’re in the right position before you start moving, or—”

A sharp hiss of pain interrupts the end of Robin’s sentence.

“Lucina! —You’re bleeding!”

Chrom sees stars in his vision, and the whole world feels like it’s spinning around him. He desperately wants to rip that tent flap open and charge in, but his knees are weak—him, _Chrom_ , the mighty Captain of the Shepherds of Ylisse! —and his breath feels like it’s been forcibly drained from his lungs.

“I—It’s nothing.” Lucina says through gritted teeth. “I’ve had pain much worse.”

“I know, but then you’ll get blood all over the place, and we’ll definitely be found out,” Robin coaxes.

Lucina sighs, heavily. “I suppose you’re right, Robin.”

“Come on—help me cover up, then.”

More rustling of fabric, and then all of a sudden the tent flap swings open, and Chrom pulls his head up just in time to come face-to-face with his darling daughter and his trusty tactician.

“I— _uh_ —y-y-you—J-just what were you two doing in there?” Chrom stammers, his face still an impressive shade of red.

“Oh, we were attempting the ‘Girl Stuff’ that you have instructed us to perform, Father,” Lucina says, serious as can be.

Chrom regrets ever mentioning the phrase. 

Robin lets out a deep sigh, shaking her head from side to side so her silvery pigtails fly out behind her. “Apparently your daughter’s idea of ‘Girl Stuff’ involves nearly stabbing herself with all manner of dangerous weapons that belong to other people. It’s a wonder she isn’t dead already. Oh, and please don’t tell Virion that we were messing with his things. He’d _murder_ us.”

It’s then that Chrom really gets a good look at his daughter, who’s cradling her arm gingerly against her chest. There’s a noticeable gash in her skin, and her sleeve is stained with blood.

“Oh,” says Chrom, rather stupidly. His face is still a little red, but his limbs are no longer stiff with horror. “I… _ha, ha_ , well, so it is. I see. Right, uh, you two have fun with that Girl Stuff. I’ll just, uh, go check up on Olivia. Right. Yeah.”

And he wanders off in a daze.

“But isn’t Olivia’s tent that way?” Lucina asks with a frown, pointing in the opposite direction from where Chrom is stumbling away, looking very much like the Risen he's defeated not too long ago.

Robin shrugs. “Who knows what’s going on in that thick skull of his?” They both watch Chrom walk head-first into someone’s clothesline, coming out the other end with a brassiere wrapped around his face.

Robin sighs, and shakes her head again. “From the looks of it, not a whole lot, probably.”

 

* * *

 

 _That’s a relief_ , Chrom thinks to himself as he finally finds his own tent. Really, he can overthink things a lot sometimes. It’s just another normal day, and everything is just the way he’s expecting it to be. It’s still good to be alive.

 

* * *

 

 

A long shower and a well-deserved rest soon clear the incident from his mind, and he’s well awake at dawn the next morning. Sticking his head out from his tent flap he sees a dense morning mist rolling across the field, shrouding all the tents in a blurry grey curtain of fog.

He can get in some morning exercise before the sun is properly up, Chrom thinks, and strides off across the field towards the equipment store for training blades. As he nears the tent he nears familiar voices.

 _—Ah, must be Robin and Lucina experimenting with weapons again_.  _Girl Stuff and all that._

Chrom clears his throat, pushes open the tent flap and strides boldly in.

“Good morning, ladies! You seem to be having a lot of fun; I don’t suppose I could join… in…”

The last of Chrom’s sentence trails off into nothing as he finally realises what he’s seeing. His beautiful, naked, firstborn daughter, bent backwards over the wooden table with the nimble fingers of his finest tactician deep between her spread thighs. The entire equipment store is a horrific mess, and there are chains, belts and whips in all sorts of Places They Shouldn't Be, performing functions he Didn’t Know They Could Be Used For. Chrom thinks he hasn’t seen this much bare boob in one place since Vaike tried to force one of his many tomes of erotica on him. As the two of them stare at him, horrified, he realises he’s also just unwittingly made the most untimely proposition in the entire history of the continent.

… Chrom _really_ wishes those zombies had just killed him instead.

 

* * *

 

“Don’t know what’s gotten into him,” Stahl mutters, loosing a wide yawn.

“It looks as though he’s possessed," Cordelia whispers back, worry in the crease of her brow. "He can’t even complete a single session in the Map Room without having to take his leave at least twice.” 

“You reckon those zombies got to him?”

“It can’t be. He’s _Chrom_. The mighty Captain of the Shepherds of Ylisse!”

They watch Chrom pace about a bit, waxing and waning in agitation, before taking a few deep breaths, and walking back into the Map Room.

Chrom resumes his place at the head of the table, though he’s still fidgeting mildly. Robin hardly bats an eyelash.

“—As I was saying before Chrom took his leave, we should very obviously _penetrate_ the enemy forces from the _rear_.”

Chrom swallows audibly, his cheeks starting to go pink.

Lucina frowns, sliding the Shepherds’ token across the map with with one slender finger.

“Well, if we do that—” she gestures to the blue ribbon of water that snakes across the land between them and the enemy forces— “We shall all be wet!”

Chrom begins to squirm uncomfortably in his seat.

Robin shakes her head grimly. “Nothing we can do about it, Lucina. Don’t want them to see us _coming_ , now do we?”

Chrom can almost feel the steam hissing out of his ears now.

“I know!” Lucina says happily, turning to Chrom with a smile on her face. “We shall have nothing to worry about. Father can just _pierce_ our enemies with his _mighty sword_ , and—Father? _Father?_ ”

They both watch as Chrom collapses soundlessly in his chair, his last three brain cells having finally given up the good fight.

 

* * *

 

There’s not much harm done, but Frederick fusses over him for what feels like two months.

And of course, from that day on, Chrom develops a sudden and permanent inability to retrieve anything from the equipment store.

Everyone else still thinks it’s got something to do with the zombies.

 

-fin-

**Author's Note:**

> Exams are coming and this is all I'm doing save me


End file.
